


A Mother's Love

by VanillaMostly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family, Missing Scene, POV Minor Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaMostly/pseuds/VanillaMostly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renly is to marry Margaery. Lady Alerie worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Love

**Author's Note:**

> I blame ASOIAF for taking over my life. T_T  
> Don't own.

 

 

Lady Alerie was fond of her husband, she was, but when she saw Mace approach her with the brightest smile that she had ever seen lighting his face, she found it hard to muster one herself.  _Don't be ridiculous,_ she told herself,  _you are worrying too much._ "How is my lord?" she said, putting aside her embroidery to greet him.

 

"Splendid." He pulled her towards him and gave her two clumsy kisses on her cheeks. "The day we've long awaited has arrived, my lady. Our Margaery has found a match at last, and it could not be more perfect."

 

"Match?" repeated Alerie stupidly, while her heart thrummed. "You mean- "

 

"Yes," said Mace, almost breathless in his excitement. "Lord Baratheon. Lord Renly, Lord of Storm's End... we have the honor to soon call him 'good-son.'"

 

Lady Alerie stared, all thoughts wiped out of her head except for,  _I need to sit._

 

Mace mistook this for shock of a different kind. Laughing, he gestured for the servant to change his clothing. "What say you to a grand feast tonight?" he said, buttoning his doublet. "The best singers will come, we'll have many dances, and drinks to go all around. It's been gloomy here for too long, Alerie. That's good, Ida. Leave us, dear." Once the doors shut, he grabbed Alerie's hand, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Will you believe it? Margaery is to be  _queen._ "

 

Alerie was unable to find her voice for a moment. "Mace... my lord," she stammered. "Do you not think this is... too fast?"

 

"Too fast!" Mace paused in smoothing a comb through his hair to give her a queer look. "Margaery is already past her fifteenth name day. She should have been wed years ago, and if Robert Baratheon had not been so thickheaded, she would have."

 

" _Mace,_ " said Alerie, glancing around. "Quiet your voice. If..."

 

"Do you worry of treason, my lady?" snorted Mace. "The Usurper is king no more, he's long dead, maimed by a boar. Mayhaps if he knew the value of a rose, he wouldn't be a bag of bones in the dirt right now. The gods clearly know what they're doing."

 

"Mace," pleaded Alerie.

 

The lord of Highgarden waved a hand. "Aye, I'll leave it be. The past is in the past anyhow, and I've no complaint. The present is treating us fine, just fine." He squeezed Alerie's hand. "Margaery and Renly, now that's a lovely pair. It's only unfortunate that the wedding will have to be short, but we have no choice with times like these. Lord Renly raises his banners as we speak... pardon me.  _King_  Renly."

 

Alerie's mouth was dry, and her hands shaking.  _It is done._ She knew her husband well; a marriage of almost thirty years made that a given. When Mace got like this, there was nothing she could say or do. But when could she ever? If the Queen of Thorns's counsel fell on deaf ears, then how far could she, a lowly Hightower, hope to go?  _It is a wife's duty to listen to her husband,_ Alerie's own mother used to say when Alerie had been Margaery's age. How long ago that had been. The world was so simple when you were young.

 

"Alerie, did you hear me?" Mace was watching her with concern. "You look pale."

 

Alerie had done her duty well enough all these years. She had stayed silent when they put Willas in that horrid tourney, even when anyone could see, including dear, kind Willas, how mad that had been. She had held her tongue when Loras had been taken away from her, so young, and kept him away so long she missed five of his name days. She had even nearly allowed them to wed Margaery to that whoremonger of a king. All those times Alerie did her duty, and look where that got all of them.

 

Her words came out in a rush. "My lord, you make a grave mistake."

 

Mace's smile faltered slightly. "My lady?"

 

Alerie gripped the edge of the bed to steady herself. "You cannot marry Renly to Margaery. If you do love your daughter and son, then you cannot."

 

Mace blinked. "My lady, are you well? If you are too overwhelmed..."

 

"Renly and Loras are in love."

 

There was a silence as Mace looked back at Alerie. "I would not call that _love,_ " he said slowly. His lips pressed together tightly, as it always did when this topic came up. "Loras is just young with his flair for... adventure. They play, as all children play before they know they have to grow up."

 

"It's not a game to them," insisted Alerie. "At least, not this."

 

"My lady, don't be ridiculous. It was Renly who asked for our daughter's hand, not our son's. No doubt he knows a war can't be won without an heir."

 

 _War, victory, heirs. Is that all men marry for?_ But Alerie knew the answer to that already. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. "I just want my children to be happy."

 

"They will be. Renly will grow to love our daughter, if he hasn't fallen for her already. They will be king and queen and sire the most charming princesses and princes."

 

 _If we win,_ thought Alerie, _if we do not lose our heads for treason as Ned Stark did,_ but she could not say this, not when her husband's eyes glowed so dreamily. "And Loras?" she chose to ask instead. "What of Loras?"

 

"Oh, he will wed one day as well. When he has his own beautiful lady bride I trust all this..." Mace grimaced, "...folly with Renly will be forgotten." He turned and smiled at Alerie. "Does that soothe your fears, my lady?"

 

The moment was over. All the fight seeped out of Alerie; she was just tired, no match for the confidence lighting up her husband's face. She swallowed. "It does, my lord," she lied. "Thank you."

 

"I am pleased to hear that, my honeyplum," he said, giving her another kiss. "Now, I shall go and oversee the preparations for the feast. You relax and get some rest."

 

After Mace left, she went to the window and looked below into the gardens. The sun was just setting, turning the white roses amber. She did not have to squint to see two brown-haired figures under the blossom trees, walking arm in arm just as they did when they were children. _Let them stay children,_ she prayed to the Mother, drawing in a deep breath. _Let there still be games to play._

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
